Cargo Transfer
by Erma W
Summary: A brief bit of fluff that pays homage to, shall we say, "work-life balance," post-ROTJ Han and Leia style. Rated for suggested content.


**Author's Note:** For JennyCBS, who asked for "something fun!" Hope this delivers! :)

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Han had doodled as many circles, starfighters, and three-dimensional cubes on his datapad as he could, but he still was having a hell of a time concentrating. They'd been sitting in this briefing for nearly an hour, and Madine had been droning on for most of it. Han had no idea what about, though; he hadn't gotten enough sleep last night to both stay awake _and_ pay attention.

Suppressing a satisfied smirk, Han casually looked across the meeting room table to the reason he hadn't gotten much sleep.

Gods, how did she do it? Leia of course hadn't gotten any more sleep than he had, but she seemed fully alert, paying complete attention to whatever Madine was saying, diligently making the occasional note on her own datapad. And she looked beautiful, so beautiful. Always beautiful, but especially beautiful this morning, with the memories of last night superimposing themselves over the very real vision before him now. His thoughts drifted back a few hours, to feeling the warmth of her bare body against his, the gooseflesh raised on her skin by his roaming fingers, the taste of her kisses, the way she—

—Han froze like a womp rat in speeder lights as Leia's eyes snapped to his, a silent scolding evident in her stern gaze. A split second later he nearly jumped out of his chair as his datapad buzzed quietly under his fingers. His eyes darted down to the screen, finding the message he'd just received—

_ |r| PAY ATTENTION, HOTSHOT_

He suppressed another grin, but didn't dare look back at Leia. He took a deep breath and, pulling himself up straight in his chair, turned to focus on Madine instead.

"... have recommended that the new insignia on the squadron leader's hull plating should be a reflective paint rather than matte..."

Fighting back a snort, Han also clenched his jaw to keep his eyes from rolling. To his credit, Madine looked as bored as Han felt. Of course, Madine usually looked bored, so maybe it didn't really count for much...

Shrugging to himself, Han returned to his doodling. Time to move on to three-dimensional pyramids...

He nearly dropped his stylus when his datapad buzzed again.

_ |r| did you transfer the laundry to the dryer?_

Han glanced at Leia in time to catch her swift glance his direction. Well, this was something new; even _he_ wasn't so bored he'd ask about laundry in the middle of a meeting. He quickly sent a response.

_ |s| yeah swthrt y?_

Now intent on looking like he was paying attention, he turned to watch Madine, waiting patiently until he received Leia's reply.

_ |r| ran out of clothes_

Han paused. That didn't make any sense. He tapped out his puzzlement.

_ |s| sure look like you're wearing your clothes_

He glanced at her just in time to see her squelch her own smirk. As he again turned back to Madine, he began to suspect that maybe Leia was trying to tell him something—

_ |r| ran out of *some* clothes_

What in the galaxy was she getting at? She had her uniform on, they'd folded a load of laundry last night right before bed, so the load he'd put in the dryer—

Oh.. _Oh..._ His eyes widened as he began to catch on. The load he'd transferred to the dryer this morning was all underwear. All. Underwear. Somehow in sorting their piles last night, they'd ended up with a load of just underwear. It had gone through the wash, but they hadn't transferred the load of underwear to the dryer before getting so thoroughly and pleasantly _distracted_ at bedtime. Han had rushed to transfer them this morning just before leaving their quarters, which apparently meant that right now, Leia was... wearing what, exactly...?

He started to feel warm. He took a risk and snuck a look at Leia—and found her looking right back at him, her eyes as dark, inviting, and mischievous as they'd been last night.

Swallowing hard, Han put on his best sabacc face. Leia slowly pulled her gaze away from his and rose from her seat, and Madine paused his blathering and looked quizzically at Leia.

"Apologies, Crix," Leia said smoothly. "It seems I need to track down a missing load of cargo. General Solo," she turned to Han, as calm as could be, "I'm afraid I may need your help. You signed off on the transfer, so you might be able to help get to the bottom of this."

-:||:-

Somehow, Han and Leia made it out of the briefing room and through several levels of the ship without once breaking their professional demeanor. Finally—

—the door to their quarters came into view at the far end of the empty hallway. Oh, and Han knew just what they would do once they made it through that door—

His sabacc face failed, leaving a loopy, crooked grin in its place. "Get to the _bottom_ of it?"

Leia's chin lifted slightly as she kept her eyes facing forward, her own sabacc face still neatly in place. Mostly. "Of course, considering the cargo in question."

—only a few more steps until they reached their quarters—

"At any rate, you did sign for the transfer this morning, General. I'm sure you can… go down with me to find it."

_Go…!?_ Han shook his head in delight, grinning. Gods, he loved this woman.

—just a few more seconds—

"Gonna have to be more careful next time, Your Highness," he drawled teasingly. "I only gave a verbal agreement to transfer."

Leia cracked at last, her mouth twitching. "I see. I suppose I'll have to be more mindful of that mouth of yours."

—almost there—

"Yeah, sweetheart," he said, his voice low, "You really should..."

—made it.

Leia reached for the controls to open their door, stopping as Han bent close to her ear. The warmth of his breath along her neck sent shivers down her back; the words he rumbled sent them lower still.

"...should pay _real_ close attention to my mouth..."

-:||:-

A few hours later, they retrieved the missing cargo from the dryer.

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End file.
